Anton Bruckner (1824-1896)
Symphony No 9 in D minor (ed. Nowak)
Lucerne Festival Orchestra/Claudio Abbado
rec. live, 21-26 August 2013, Concert Hall of the Lucerne KKL, Switzerland
Deutsche Grammophon 479 3441 [63]

I’ve been struck recently by the similarities between Herbert von Karajan and his successor at the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, Claudio Abbado. Not in terms of their music-making or personalities which, of course, were poles apart but, rather, in other ways. In particular, both were principal conductors of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra who were forced to give up their position for health reasons (amongst others). Both battled valiantly to overcome serious health issues to continue conducting during their final years, until Abbado died a few months before his 81st birthday and Karajan a few months after his. Both featured a Bruckner symphony in their last concert; with Karajan, it was the Seventh, with Abbado the Ninth. Deutsche Grammophon was on hand to record live and release Abbado’s final concert performance(s), while they taped the Seventh with Karajan in the studio, during sessions that took place around the same time of the final concert. Curiously, Abbado’s successor, Sir Simon Rattle’s penultimate concert as principal conductor of the BPO also featured a Bruckner symphony, this time the Samale-Mazzuca-Phillips-Cohrs completion of the Ninth, although happily he is still with us in 2025 as a sprightly seventy-year-old. Curse or coincidence? I’ll let you decide…

So what to make of this version of the three movement Bruckner Ninth featuring the fabled Lucerne Festival Orchestra? At the time of its release, much was made of it being a composite recording from Claudio Abbado’s final concerts, with one particularly poignant picture in the accompanying booklet that showed the conductor exiting the stage with his players at the end of one of the performances that made up this release. Gramophone Magazine, swept along in the general canonisation of the late conductor, promptly made it their Recording of the Year in 2015 is spite of their original review, by Rob Cowan being somewhat lukewarm. Likewise, with continuing reverence, DG has also ensured that this recording is still available both on all the usual downloadable formats, as well as compact disc, which is quite remarkable in 2025 when physical copies of recordings seem to be exiting the catalogue faster than a record company executive can say “streaming revenue”.

Whatever the back story, or indeed, whichever the format, the sonics here are very fine, the live audience virtually silent and the orchestral playing is predictably superb, the opening string tremolando seemingly emerging from the very edge of sound itself – quite astonishing. Abbado’s conception is noble, long-lined, often eloquent and, unusually for this symphony, somewhat wistful at times. In particular, he is at great pains to highlight all the minute differentials of dynamics and strives to often obtain remarkable clarity, especially in the central scherzo. However, at the same time, such attention to minutiae is too often achieved at the expense of the wider whole, sucking momentum away from Bruckner’s driving symphonic argument to merely gaze at the small print at the foot of the page, particularly during the last movement. This forensic attention to detail and control is especially ruinous with the climaxes of the outer movements that appear to be reined in with the attack softened; perhaps Abbado was conscious of trying to mitigate the usual criticism that Bruckner’s music is full of ‘blocks of sound’, but the results lack the unbridled ferocity and grandeur the music surely needs. This fault is evident as early as in the first two great climaxes that open the symphony, from bars 70 to 80 in the score (just after three minutes in most performances) which are marked ff and fff respectively, where although the sound of the full orchestra opens up satisfyingly into the grateful acoustics of the Lucerne KKL concert hall, the drama is lost with Abbado’s polite and soft-edged attack. In short, this is an interpretation full of refinement and good taste, but to my ears the very considerable parts of this live recording just do not add up to a gripping and persuasive whole.

So, in my view, whatever the merits of Abbado’s career, which this release seems to be so obviously celebrating, this is not a recording that stands up well when compared to other versions in the catalogue. For me, it possesses neither the gaunt grandeur of Giulini’s account with the Vienna Philharmonic, nor the noble majesty of the same conductor’s earlier recording with the Chicago Symphony. Turning to Abbado’s predecessors at Berlin, if perhaps nobody quite captures the tragic splendour of Furtwängler’s live taping with the Berlin Philharmonic from 1944, then that is still another benchmark against which Abbado is found wanting. Furtwängler was succeeded by Karajan in Berlin and there are three ‘official’ recordings by him in the catalogue, two in the studio with the Berliners and another live with the Vienna Philharmonic, as well as a couple of films and many ‘unofficial’ live tapings. His way with this work was always consistent, presenting it like a comet shooting across the darkened heavens, compared to which this Lucerne account just seems merely earthbound. Perhaps some may appreciate Abbado’s lighter, less cataclysmic touch more than I self-evidently do, in which case this could be the version for them. However, for me, while this is a massive improvement upon Abbado’s earlier version with the Vienna Philharmonic (also DG), I would never choose to listen to it before any of the versions by those aforementioned three conductors, nor to Abbado’s own successor at the Berlin Philharmonic, Simon Rattle, who has the inestimable advantage of a completed last movement as well. Indeed, as much as I admire Deutsche Grammophon’s fine sonics and the orchestral playing on this release, even these have since been superseded by Manfred Honeck’s live recording with the Pittsburgh Symphony from 2018.

To summarise, if you want a great recording of Bruckner’s Ninth Symphony, then seek out any of Giulini’s, Karajan’s, or the Furtwängler. Simon Rattle’s reading is probably the finest of a four-movement completion we are ever likely to hear, with an account of the first three movements that are more than a match for Abbado in Lucerne. Manfred Honeck’s blazing performance on Reference Recordings has the finest sonics to date, while Abbado’s transparency of musical texture is more than matched by any of Günter Wand’s various distinguished accounts. Claudio Abbado made some stunning recordings during his long career – those of the operas Simon Boccanegra and Macbeth are without peer, while his Berlin Mahler Seventh and Mussorgsky orchestral works disc are, for me, indisputably magnificent; however, this late Bruckner Ninth is merely a solid entry in a catalogue where true greatness is ultimately found elsewhere.

Lee Denham

Previous review: John Quinn (July 2014)

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